


Why Superheroes Die

by Kingshammer



Category: The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-12
Updated: 2018-06-12
Packaged: 2019-05-21 07:55:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,979
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14911418
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kingshammer/pseuds/Kingshammer
Summary: Jessica Drew works a difficult case for Jessica Jones and it changes her perspective on a superhero's place in the world.





	Why Superheroes Die

**Author's Note:**

> Hey all,
> 
> So this was something that I tried to flesh out as a multi-fic piece about a year ago but I much prefer it as a one shot.
> 
> BEFORE YOU KEEP READING:
> 
> I want to give some trigger warnings for implied mentions of abuse as specifically ties to human sex trafficking. I won't soapbox here, except to say I take this subject very seriously and everyone should. While this fic focuses on trafficked women, I acknowledge wholeheartedly that victims can be ANYONE from ANY walk of life.
> 
> There's nothing graphic here, hence the rating.

The rain was falling in sheets, darkening the city sky line. The only light in the room came from the soft blue glow of the muted television and the occasional flash of lightning. Thunder rolled in the distance, a promise that the storm was not near done saturating the streets in its trajectory.

As she stares out at the rain, perched at a slight slouch in the recliner she’d kicked to the window for just this view, Jessica is reminded of the old saying:

_Rain falls on the just and unjust alike._

The thought makes her recoil in disgust. Is there really much difference between the just and unjust?

Jessica’s thoughts are simultaneously overwhelming and nonexistent. As thick and as empty as the darkness outside the window. She can’t watch the broadcast behind her. She tried, but it's focusing on all the wrong things. The accolades fall hollow today and strike her ears the way bile strikes the bottom of your throat right before you throw up. She can’t watch and she can’t listen. But she can’t separate herself from the goings on, no matter how much she tries. So she keeps it on the periphery. Jessica wants to erase the images in her mind and never forget them.

So she drinks. Because drinking is what you do to remember and forget. She didn’t waste time with ice or mix. It’s a room temperature whiskey that burns hot as it slides down her throat. It was a gift from “the other Jessica” at the completion of a case six months ago. There would be no celebratory whiskey this time, not after this case.

As if she could feel her thoughts, Jessica’s phone lights up:  _J_ _essica "JJ" J_ _ones._ The bright light hurts her eyes. The idea of talking to Jessica Jones right now hurts her heart. She silenced the call the way she had the last three. This time she tossed the offending device over her shoulder. It clattered and slid on the old wooden coffee table but didn’t fall off. Small miracles.

Jessica didn’t know how long she’d been sitting. Long enough for her broken and bloody knuckles to scab and crack painfully when she moved. The hurts on her face and body had calmed some too, though the logical, non-catatonic Jessica knew they’d flare up when she moved again. If she moved again.

/

The past three days had been nothing but movement. When she’d first started taking cases for Jessica Jones months ago, to help ease the work load, Jessica had done it to stay busy and to do work that mattered. Or at least, work that was sparked by need. Because if she was working, she wasn’t thinking. Stagnation was a bumpy road that led to dark thoughts and darker considerations in the middle of the night. Jessica preferred to stay moving.

When JJ had slid the photo nineteen-year-old Cassie Pickens to her over the desk, it had been with a mild sense of foreboding that both women tired to ignore.

“I’m hoping she’s a runaway,” JJ had started the conversation, a small frown on her face. Jessica considered her friend’s expression.

“You hope that but your gut is telling you something different,” she’d stated. JJ had sighed.

“I can’t prove it, that’s why I need you, but it just doesn’t  _feel_ right. She took a year off for the Peace Corps and was about to start undergrad in International Relations. She doesn’t strike me as a runaway, but if she’s not, well…” she’d trailed off.

“If she’s not, then something really nasty is just waiting to be sniffed out?” supplied Jessica. JJ had nodded.

“She was last seen at La Guardia. She’d arrived home from Greece with some friends and they split up to get back home. Only Pickens never got home. A week later, the parents get a frantic, garbled voicemail of a female voice begging for help,” JJ plays the recording on her phone. The female is whisper shouting, tears and evident on her voice. She begged for help. Jessica felt the fear in the girl’s voice like a tangible thing in the room. She’d shuddered at the chill that raced across her spine.

“You  _know_  she’s not a runaway,” Jessica had stated softly. It wasn’t accusatory. She understood JJ’s sentiment. Because even a runaway was better than whatever evil had sparked the crackle of fear in Cassie’s voice. JJ just shrugged.

“We both know that optimism usually makes me itch. But the alternative makes me want to throw up. I just...I couldn't walk away from this one but I need help.”

 

Jessica had set out not long after, dark shirt, boots, worn green jacket clothing her form. The Skrull hunting uniform. Her favorite work uniform these days.

The investigation was familiar. It was quiet questions, bribes for looks at security cameras, interviews with family and friends.

Cassie was the textbook good kid. Straight A student who spent her summers on church mission trips. She played the flute and ran track. Her senior project was a partnership with Habitat for Humanity. She’d wanted to make other people’s lives better. A bright young woman with hope and ambition and a big heart. Maybe too big.

Because when the homeless looking guy stops her at the airport, she doesn’t walk away. Instead the camera shows them as they walk together and climb into a cab. Only, there wasn’t any record of that cab number picking up fares at the airport the morning Cassie had climbed in. In fact, that cab was supposed to be in the shop for regular maintenance.

Jessica had almost had to break skulls in the shop until the mechanics checked the mileage the car had been logged in at verses the mileage it actually showed. There’s a log in and out. And well, that car was  _supposed_ to be in the shop. And well, they’d messed up. Because the car had more miles on it. Someone had driven it without permission, off the record.

And it was happening regularly every three to four months. 

Transit police opened an investigation and that led to Jessica and JJ conducting an unrecorded interrogation on one Mike Piteri. 

“I swear to god I just drive the car! I meet my guy at the airport and take him and whoever else to the place. I don't know what happens after that, you gotta believe me!” he’d screamed and sobbed. 

“That's horseshit Mike and we both know it. You expect us to believe that the people your guy brings get out and go with him willingly?” JJ had asked incredulously. 

“Please,” he’d spluttered, begging. Jessica's heart had been cold steel. How many had he listened to beg? How many poor souls pleaded for the same mercy? How many had he ignored?

“You want me to talk to him?” that voice came from the shadows and was all ice. Mike screamed in terror.

“Why is it people always respond to you like that?” Jessica asked in irritation as Daredevil, Matt Murdock, stepped out of the shadows on the high rooftop. 

“My costume is scarier than yours,” Daredevil stated, gesturing toward the Jessicas’ black and olive drab. 

“This isn't a superhero adventure,” replied Jessica.

“And I don't need spandex for work,” drawled JJ. “Why are you here?”

All three spoke casually over Mike’s screams as though they didn’t exist.

“You can here him forever away. Almost smell him too,” remarked Daredevil with a small smirk.

“You’re not allowed to rescue this one Matt. He's not yours,” said Jessica warningly.

“Wouldn’t dream of it. If you’re not in uniform I guess you’re doing detective work. What’s he here for?” asked the Devil.

JJ strode up to the man and slapped him to still his screams. He looked at her wide eyed.

“Mike here drives a cab for someone who likes kidnapping young women from the airport,” replied JJ, staring at Mike as she answered Matt. She seized him by the collar and hoisted him up to meet her eyes. “I was just about to dangle his ass over the edge of the building, see if I can’t tempt him toward honesty. All I want to know is who he works for and the address he takes people,” JJ’s tone left no room for Mike to think she was kidding. Her purposeful steps toward the edge of the building didn't help. 

“No, no, no you can't do this!” shouted Mike. “You, Devil, ain't you some kinda hero, you can't let her do this!”

“You might survive the fall. I don't have to do anything. I suggest you talk,” Matt growled.  This was too much for Mike and he began to struggle violently in JJ’s hold. With a snarl, JJ threw him back so that he slammed into the roof and rolled. When he stopped, Jessica pinned him to the roof with a heel dug into his chest. 

“Tell us what we want to know and the Devil can have you,” she spat. Mike flinched. 

“Okay, look. It's for the money. It's good money. I drive the car to a warehouse in Queens. My guy, he chloroforms the girls. I help him carry them in, that’s all, I swear,” he rambled.

“That’s  _all?_ Don't you think that's enough you fucking piece of shit!” yelled Jessica stomping down on his sternum. He squalled and coughed violently. 

“Where's the warehouse fucker?” she asked, her voice deadly.

“On 50th near the creek. Please don't kill me,” he begged. Jessica stomped down again, leaving him a sobbing, quivering mess.

“I’m going to the warehouse. JJ, can you take this sack of shit to the local precinct?” said Jessica. JJ’s brows furrowed. 

“You're not going alone,” she said. Matt was nodding his agreement. Jessica had held up her hand.

“You gave this case to me and  _I’m_ going to handle it. Daredevil can't come, costumes need special permission and I will  _not_ be explaining to Norman Osborn why I went off the reservation. Again. It’ll be for surveillance. This is going to be huge and we’ll need the feds. I won't do anything reckless.”

That, at least, was what she had said. But as things happen with Jessica Drew, one thing led rapidly to another. Because how couldn't it when you happened upon the prep base of a human sex trafficking ring?

There were five women. And stations to change their appearance. Document forgers. Tickets and preparations to get out of the city. Enough motel stops to prep the women, break them to their new lives. And then plans to leave the country, not just the city. A well-oiled machine.

Jessica surveilled and three sleepless days later, and Jessica, bloodied after a grueling battle with several bought thugs, was depositing the local leader of the operation at the feet of the baffled FBI agents while NYPD officers helped shepherd traumatized, hollow-eyed women out of a motel owned by the ring. 

The news showed up soon after and Jessica had ghosted.

It wasn't about the girls she'd helped save. It was the files. The records. Dozens upon dozens of women, just gone. With no hope of being found again. It was winning the day and losing the war that drove Jessica away.

/

Jessica wasn't sure how long she'd been sitting. All she knew was that eventually, a key slid into the lock of the front door. It didn't startle her. Only one person had a key to her apartment that would use it on a night like this.

“Jess?” came the questioning voice. It was light and hope and warmth and Jessica felt so undeserving in that moment. Such was the contrast of that voice to the darkness around her that she was instantly overwhelmed. She squeezed her eyes tightly shut for a moment, a single tear sneaking out, her breath kicking up to a pant.

Carol moved into the dark apartment and already the space was warmer. Jessica wanted to shove Carol out and pull her in close.

“Jess?” asked the blonde again.

“Please don’t turn on the light,” rasped Jessica. Her voice was rough from exhaustion and alcohol. She could feel Carol approach.

Carol, who knew Jessica best in the world. She knew Jessica’s isolation was intentional. But Jessica was in her apartment, and so it meant she didn’t mind being found.

“Did JJ call you?” asked Jessica. She took another sip from her glass. She’d lost track of how many she'd had. The bottle was in the chair with her. It didn't matter tonight. 

“She’s worried about you. She says you went to do surveillance three days ago and the next she heard from you was on the news,” said Carol sadly. “I’m worried about you too. That was...I'm so sorry Jess. I can't imagine.” 

Jess sipped her drink again.

“How many times do you think we've saved the world Carol?” she asked after a while. Carol dragged an end table over and perched on the edge, studying her friend. Jessica’s walls were up and as much as Carol wanted to pull the woman into her arms, she knew that's the last thing she needed, at least at the moment. She did have to bite her cheek when an errant flash of lightning threw Jessica’s features into sharp relief. Because there were entirely too many untreated injuries. 

“I’ve lost track really. Most days feel like a countdown to the next bit of chaos,” replied Carol cautiously. 

“Right. A lot. I always used to assume that it was the result of some cosmic sense of right and wrong, and when you had powers you have to choose a side. And I always figured that people were happy when we chose to do good and save the world,” said Jessica. She finished her drink, but didn't pour another. 

“You saying you regret it? Being Spiderwoman? Being an Avenger?” asked Carol. She wasn't defensive, she just wanted in on whatever was going on in Jessica's head.

“No. But I can't help but wonder, after today, if there are people who wish we would fail,” said Jessica quietly. 

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Because Carol was having trouble buying into the defeat in Jessica's voice. You don't stop trying to save the world, not when you can do the things they can do.

“I’m just wondering if there are people who pray to...whoever they pray to, that we fail. And maybe that's why some of us don't come home. Because there are people whose lives are  _so_ _bad_  that, the world ending would be something closer to freedom than what they have now,” said Jessica thoughtfully. Carol nodded, finally understanding. 

“The women today,” she said quietly. Jessica let out a shuddering breath and closed her eyes. Tears leaked in earnest now. 

“The warehouse was a prepping area. They take the girls there to… to break them. To remove all their hope. And then they send them out. To be bought, and used, and destroyed. And every time we keep the world spinning they're left to that hell for another day,” said Jessica, her voice breaking quietly. Carol’s heart hurt for her friend. The news hasn't covered the worst of it and Jessica would never be able to forget. 

“They're in our city Carol. This is going on  _here_ , and we've done  _nothing_  about it. I haven't. I can't think of an Avenger's project that has,” said Jessica.

“But you have done something about it. You saved those girls today. Alone. Some might say it was heroic,” said Carol, leaving out the fact that it was also incredibly stupid to go in alone. She reached out a hand and placed it on Jessica’s knee.

“I saved a few out of millions. I don’t feel like a hero. I just did a job that’s so long overdue. And it's barely a drop in the bucket for what needs doing. Those women are heroes, for surviving. Not me,” replied Jessica quietly, her eyes still closed. Carol squeezed her knee.

“Jess, I know you are heartbroken and overwhelmed. And it would be so much worse if you weren't. But what you did today was extraordinary. And it mattered to those women. Those women have a chance to get their lives back,” said Carol. She hated the hopelessness in Jess’s face because what she’d done  _did_ matter and even a small difference is a difference.

“It just doesn’t feel like enough,” whispered Jessica. And with that, Carol had had enough. She reached forward and grabbed Jessica’s wrist pulling her up. Jessica let her, falling into the warmth of Carol’s arms. She tucked her face into the crook of Carol’s shoulder, wrapped her arms around her waist and breathed her in. Carol felt like home and Jessica melted into the embrace.

Carol held Jessica close while she felt the shudders run through Jessica’s body.

“Jess, all we can do is the best with what we have. We know, because of you and JJ that this is an issue we need to deal with. We have a responsibility to do something about it. And we will, all of us who can. We aren’t so busy with saving the universe that we can’t save people too,” said Carol, kissing the side of Jess’s head. She felt her nod her head.

“I love you Carol,” came the muffled voice from her shoulder. Carol squeezed just a fraction tighter.

“I love you too.” Carol pulled back and looked down at Jessica.

“You need a shower and a few bandaids. Then bed,” remarked the blonde. Jessica nodded.

“Will you stay? I just, I’d feel better with you,” Jessica struggled to get out. Carol grabbed either side of Jessica’s head gently and kissed her gently, pouring every bit of love and warmth into the gesture.

“I’ll stay as long as you want me."

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading.


End file.
